She Ain’t Heavy, She’s My Mother is a one-man confessional, written and performed by Simon Dean. In an hour of stage time he describes his experiences of growing up with a mother who suffered, and still suffers, from anorexia. Dean’s bravery and honesty drive his performance. However, his execution doesn’t do justice to the enormity of his subject matter.

The show begins with a nervous offering of biscuits (this is the second one-man show I’ve seen in the past two weeks that begins with a food offering – perhaps an easy way to win us over… ). Although Dean initially sets up audience participation, he doesn’t fully commit to it, so that rather than sharing in his story we end up becoming more like a sounding board.

Dean relaxes as the show progresses, but he lacks spontaneity when telling his personal account. At times I had the uncomfortable feeling that I was witnessing the replaying of past emotions too obviously rehearsed, so that instead of ringing true, something felt off.

There are some simple and clever uses of props and choreography. Small physical movements aid our ability to visualise events. The use of a jumper slumped against a chair is a focal point, unnervingly evoking the emaciated body of Dean’s mother. Seeing as these are successful assets to the piece, it would have been interesting to see how other stage effects could have aided the storytelling.

At its best, Dean’s account of his difficult past maintains energy, aided by his cheeky sense of humour, creating a subtle contrast that only deepens our sense of his trauma. It’s a shame that Dean tends to siphon off moments of humour as light relief. This technique blocks momentum, and wrongly implies that there is no room for lightness in heaviness – a claim that clearly doesn’t hold.

At times, She Ain’t Heavy, She’s My Mother risks making assumptions about anorexia: this is one man’s story, not everyone’s. A particular moment, where Dean fantasises about aggressively berating a nurse for her way of handling the issue with his family, felt almost like poor taste; her technique may well have worked for someone else.

The performative aspect of this piece sometimes feels like an unnecessary hindrance, rather than an essential part of the story. Dean proves that anorexia can and should be spoken about, but we need to feel part of the show and less like bystanders.

She Ain’t Heavy, She’s My Mother played at Etcetera Theatre until 20 August as part of the Camden Fringe. For more information, see the Camden Fringe website. Photo: Spit & Sawdust Theatre Company.